


Aoba Johsai's Annual Valentine's Day Dance and Why It's Always Catastrophic

by signed_aj



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aobajousai, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29460933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signed_aj/pseuds/signed_aj
Summary: The Aoba Johsai volleyball team always attends their school's Valentine's Day Dance as a team, no matter how many times everything goes to shit.Oikawa requires everyone brings a date, and Yahaba and Kyoutani are definitely going as 'just friends'.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru
Comments: 12
Kudos: 211





	Aoba Johsai's Annual Valentine's Day Dance and Why It's Always Catastrophic

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in a day and my brain is absolutely mush. Happy 4am, I'm so sorry if the last like 5k of this makes no sense.
> 
> Also this is my first time writing anything for this team at all so if the characters are kinda OOC I'm so sorry. I really tried with Matsuhana specifically but Kyouhaba is the only Aoba Johsai ship I've read for and the fics I've read haven't had any other couples in them so I can't even make them fanon whoops

February brought just as much snow as January hand, but with an added annoyance of everything being decorated with red hearts and flowers. Kyoutani had nearly walked out of the gym the day they all arrived to practice and found that Oikawa had filled it with a disgustingly vibrant array of Valentine’s Day decorations.

“What’s wrong, Mad Dog?” he cooed, wrapping an arm around Kyoutani’s shoulders. “Sad you don’t yet have a valentine?”

“I’m going to hit you.” 

Oikawa pulled away from him, a grin on his face. “Lucky for you, everyone has to, once again, find a date for Valentine’s Day!”

Every second and third year aside from Oikawa and Iwaizumi groaned, and Kyoutani noticed that the first years seemed just as confused as he was.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” he grumbled.

“He’s talking about the stupid Valentine’s Day dance the school throws every year,” Hanamaki explained, rolling his eyes.

“It’s a required team bonding activity,” Matsukawa added.

Kyoutani raised a brow at them, expecting one of them to break into laughter and tell him they were just kidding, because no one in their right mind would ever expect their entire team to go to some stupid dance. 

Except that Oikawa wasn’t in his right mind, and Kyoutani knew he was being one hundred percent serious as he explained that everyone had to bring a date: boy, girl, teammate, from the school, not from the school (no one from opposing volleyball teams, though).

Kyoutani scoffed and sat back against the wall where Kindaichi looked almost nauseous and Kunimi seemed unamused, or not entirely present for what was being said to them.

“Now, I know that it’s the first years  _ and Mad Dog’s _ first Valentine’s dance with the team, but do know that I take it very, very seriously. Especially since this is my last school dance, we are going all out.”

Yahaba took a seat next to him, though he wasn’t paying attention to what Oikawa was saying, nose buried in his phone. 

“We’re all going to get sized for suits on Wednesday, alright? We’re going gray this year, blue ties. I’ll give you three styles to choose from, but we will be matching, just like last year.”

“Wow, going from blue and gray, to gray and blue? Revolutionary,” Yahaba grumbled, not looking up from his phone. His fingers were tugging at his curls like he did when he was nervous. Typically, Kyoutani noticed the habit on the bus ride to tournaments, not as often outside of the context of approaching games. Especially not at the topic of a Valentine’s day dance. 

“It was navy suits and gray ties last year, Yahaba. If you’re going to make fun of something, at least be specific.” He put a gentle hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Dates outside of the team are requested to wear something gray, blue, or neutral as well. But, as we saw with certain dates last year, some girls have things picked out in advance that aren’t as… appealing, and that’s okay.”

Iwaizumi snorted a laugh. “You mean when your girlfriend showed up in a bright pink feathery mess of a dress?” 

“Awe, you rhymed, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, his voice high, but his glare heavy. “Won’t matter this year, anyway, since we’re going together.”

He rolled his eyes and shoved Oikawa away. “So Hanamaki and Matsukawa are going together, right?” 

They passed a look between each other that rose a bit of tension Iwaizumi obviously hadn’t been prepared for. 

“I don’t know, are we?” Matsukawa spat.

“We’ve been dating for two years, why do I need to ask you to go to a stupid dance?”

“It’s polite.”

“Fine. Hey, stupid, wanna come to the stupid dance with me?”

“Yes.” Matsukawa grinned and nodded back at Iwaizumi. “We’re going together.” 

“Watari, you going with your girlfriend?”

Watari’s face burned bright red, and he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. Her dress is blue, too, so don’t worry.” 

Oikawa’s face lit up. “You know, I like her more and more every day.”

“What about you two?” Iwaizumi asked, looking at Kindaichi and Kunimi. “Got girlfriends or something?”

“Yes,” Kunimi said simply, hardly even looking in Iwaizumi’s direction.

“I’ll- I’ll work on it,” Kindaichi mumbled. 

“Yahaba-”

“Nope.”

“Okay, Kyoutani?” 

Kyoutani glanced at Yahaba, still tugging at his hair. “Why’s he just get to say ‘nope’ and you move on?”

“‘Cause I’m cooler than you,” Yahaba said, giving him a small smirk before looking back down at his phone.

“I’m not bringing a date,” Kyoutani said, crossing his arms.

“That’s not an option,” Oikawa stated.

“Why not?”

“Because everyone has to bring a date.”

“Yahaba just said fucking ‘nope’ when you asked him.”

“Yahaba doesn’t count.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Yahaba looked at him, mildly amused. “You’re just mad that every time a girl’s confessed to you, you completely ignored them and now that you need a date, all of them are too scared to approach you.” 

“Maybe he’s just mad that none of the cute second year boys have confessed,” Oikawa offered, a grin on his face that made Kyoutani want to hit him significantly more than normal. “I have a fine tuned gaydar and it just absolutely wails around you.”

Iwaizumi punched him in the shoulder. “Outing people is mean.” 

Kyoutani shrugged. “I don’t really hide it, man.” All eyes turned to him, shocked. “What? Just because I don’t go out of my way to fuck around with every person that seems interesting, doesn’t mean that I’m not interested in people.”

Oikawa clapped his hands together. “Perfect! That’s just double the options for you to find a date for the dance.” 

“You’re forcing all of us to go to a shitty dance, I don’t understand why it’s necessary for me to bring someone.”

“Why are you so against it?” Yahaba asked. “Plenty of girls like you. I’m one hundred percent sure a few guys do too.”

Kyoutani grimaced at the thought. “I’d rather get ran over by a truck.”

“Then do what?” Matsukawa asked. “Ask someone out?”

“Ask a specific someone out?” Watari added. 

“Awe! He’s blushing,” Iwaizumi teased, slapping away the shoe Kyoutani chucked at him. 

“Who is it?” Yahaba asked, poking Kyoutani in the side. “Do we know them?”

Kyoutani let his head knock against the wall behind him. “You’re all a bunch of shitheads.”

“Awe, don’t be embarrassed, Kyoutani. I’m sure whoever it is thinks you’re lovely… or, as generally decent as you can be sometimes.”

He glared at Yahaba. “Who are you bringing, then? I’m not taking ‘nope’ as an answer.”

Yahaba’s amusement faded, and he looked back down at his phone. “I don’t know.”

Without time for questioning or concern, Oikawa clapped his hands, and they spread out to stretch. Hanamaki seemed especially close to Yahaba during practice, working on back row attacks and Yahaba’s serves while everyone else spread out to get tips from the third years as they’d been doing in pretty much every practice since they’d lost at the interhighs. 

“Staring at him like you wanna kiss his face off doesn’t really hide the fact that Yahaba’s the one you wanna ask to the dance,” Matsukawa said, chucking a volleyball into Kyoutani’s stomach. 

“What?” he gasped, reeling from both the impact of the volleyball and his words.

“Don’t worry. I think Makki and I are the only ones that figured it out, especially with everyone so surprised to find out you’re into dudes.”

He frowned and threw the ball up for a subpar serve. It didn’t hit quite right. Maybe because he was staring at Yahaba more than he was looking at the ball.

“And don’t worry about the dance thing. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged and tossed him another ball. “Last year’s dance was a shit show. Some of the third years got into a big fight and left early, and the other two got kicked out for grinding on each other.”

“Not surprised.” Kyoutani had no sympathy for any of the previous year’s graduates. 

“Someone on the basketball team spiked the punch and Iwaizumi was so drunk he confessed to Oikawa in front of his girlfriend. Then I found Watari crying in the bathroom because he thought his hair was too short for anyone to love him, but his girlfriend was standing outside the bathroom waiting for him. She still hasn’t let him live that one down.”

“And Yahaba?”

Matsukawa sighed, spinning a ball between his fingers. “The captain of last year’s baseball team had been after him for  _ months. _ Yahaba always turned him down, and we all thought it was really funny because this guy was a punk, you know? He was an asshole to everyone except whatever guy he was trying to lay at the time. Then the dance came around, the captain said everyone needed a date, and Yahaba agreed to go with him. We all thought it would be fine.” 

Something sunk in Kyoutani’s stomach. He could see the direction the story was taking.

“So after everyone was a little tipsy, Yahaba and the guy had disappeared like thirty minutes, maybe an hour before, Makki and I were walking around to find a good place to get away from everyone and we found them under a stairwell. Yahaba was obviously not drunk, but the guy was. He was also a lot bigger than Yahaba and apparently didn’t understand that ‘no’ and ‘get the fuck off of me’ weren’t suggestions if you feel like it.” 

Kyoutani closed his eyes, trying to will down the sick feeling and the anger rising up in his chest. He was torn between wanting to fight someone and throwing up all over the place. 

“Makki beat the shit out of the guy,” Matsukawa continued. “Like his fists were so fucked up. I’ve never seen him so mad before.”

“Good,” was all Kyoutani could think to say.

“Yeah, well, all four of us got kicked out too. Makki chased the guy off campus and then we took Yahaba back to my house. He was… I don’t know, distant for a while after that, I guess? We gave Oikawa and Iwaizumi the jist of what happened when they started talking about the dance this year, and Oikawa told him that he doesn’t have to bring a date, but he’ll be glad if he at least goes.” 

Kyoutani watched Hanamaki and Yahaba stand near the benches, talking for a moment. Yahaba was pulling at his hair again. Kyoutani wanted to take his wrist and maybe hold his hand so he’d stop. It couldn’t be good for his hair.

“I know he hasn’t really gotten close to anyone outside the team since that. He was kind of a flirt last year with some of the guys in other clubs, but he just kinda sticks to our circle now and I don’t blame him. Hard to trust people.”

“That just… it fucking sucks, man,” he said, throwing up another serve and smacking it hard to the other side of the court near where Yahaba and Hanamaki were standing. Yahaba’s head snapped up at the sound of the impact and he met Kyoutani’s eyes, offering him a small smile. “He doesn’t deserve shit like that.”

He looked over and found Matsukawa giving him something like an endearing smile. “He really doesn’t. Maybe that’s why he started hanging with you.”

Kyoutani furrowed his brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Makki and I were kind of…  _ surprised  _ when you and Yahaba started getting close, you know? I mean, you’re really fucking different in every respect, but also, we just didn’t think that he’d be so open to letting someone in after he’d been so against getting to know new people. He’s always so nervous around people he doesn’t fully know now, always questioning their intentions, but he started to trust you pretty quickly.”

“What’s that supposed to me?” he asked, nervous at the intentions of Matsukawa’s speech. “We just like hanging out sometimes. What’s wrong with that?”

“He doesn’t hang out alone with people very often, you know? He’s always with two or three of us at a time. Then you two started studying together and hanging out just the two of you. He has to trust you a hell of a lot to get past fear like what he developed after the Valentine’s dance last year.” 

Kyoutani felt his face heat up. He’d never really considered it weird that he and Yahaba were together so often, but Matsukawa seemed pretty sure that he had every reason to feel pretty damn special.

-

He tried not to think about what Matsukawa had told him on his and Yahaba’s walk back to his house after school. It was hard, though. Yahaba was still quieter than he normally was. Kyoutani normally relied on him telling stories from classes or about what had happened at his house the night before to keep the conversation going during the walk, but he hardly spoke at all. 

One hand held his phone, looking through various social medias, never long enough to actually be doing anything on them, and the other tugged at his hair. 

Kyoutani reached up to pull his hand from his hair, but ran it through his own hair instead. Yahaba was generally easy to read, though Kyoutani was realizing through his silence that he usually read him through his tone. It was hard to tell exactly where his emotions were when he wasn’t saying anything indicative of how he was feeling.

“Hey, um,” Kyoutani said as they rounded the corner toward Yahaba’s house. Yahaba looked up at him, still pulling his hair. “I didn’t mean to make you upset… at practice this morning.”

“Oh. It’s okay.”

Kyoutani frowned. He was hoping Yahaba would tell him that he hadn’t upset him at all.

“Are you going? To the dance, I mean. Are you going at all?”

Yahaba gave him a confused looked. “We all have to go. Oikawa said so.”

“Oh, yeah, guess so.” He scratched the back of his head, trying desperately to ignore the way Yahaba’s hair pulling had gotten rougher since he started talking. “Are you planning on asking anyone?”

“I don’t really want to talk about the dance,” he said quickly, pushing open the gate that led into his fenced in front yard. “I’m only going because it’s important to the third years, and it’s out last big thing all together before they graduate. When I’m captain next year, I’m not making everyone go. It’s stupid, and it puts too much pressure on everyone to find a date. I mean, did you see Kindaichi? He looked like he was about to throw up when Oikawa announced it.”

Kyoutani nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” 

They studied in silence. Yahaba didn’t seem to be getting through very much of his homework, eyes drifting from his papers and to the wall in front of where they were sat side by side on the bed. He’d started pulling so hard at his hair that it was shaking his head and Kyoutani was getting a headache just watching it. 

“Stop it,” he finally groaned, untangling Yahaba’s hand from his hair and lacing their fingers together to keep him from starting again. Kyoutani took his pen with his other hand and continued his homework as if nothing had changed. He’d always been pretty good at controlling both hands, though his handwriting was slightly slanted when he wrote left-handed. He didn’t mind it if it made Yahaba calm down enough to stop pulling his hair. 

“Sorry,” Yahaba whispered after a few minutes. He still wasn’t doing his homework. “Sorry.” 

Kyoutani looked at him and saw that his eyebrows were creased and his lips were turned down in a deep frown. He squeezed Yahaba’s hand to draw his attention and offered him a soft smile when their eyes met.

“Don’t worry about it. I just don’t want you going bald or anything.”

Yahaba’s frown lifted slightly. “Thanks.”

Kyoutani finished his homework nearly thirty minutes before Yahaba. He used the extra time to rest his head against the wall and close his eyes. Yahaba never let go of his hand, so Kyoutani continued to hold it even when it started to feel a little sweaty or when he wanted to stretch his fingers out. 

Yahaba shifted next to him, putting his homework away one handed, and Kyoutani finally opened his eyes. 

“You know what we should do?” 

Yahaba looked at him. “Hm?”

“Go to the dance together. That way neither of us have to worry about finding a stupid date.”

He watched at least six emotions pass by Yahaba’s face, though the only ones that he could really read were disappointment and maybe… nervousness? Then he offered Kyoutani a small smile and nodded. “Yeah. If you don’t find anyone to actually go with you, we can just go together.”

Kyoutani frowned. “I’m not gonna ask anyone else, so I guess you’re coming with me.”

Yahaba pulled his hand from Kyoutani’s and reached for his phone with it. “Guess so,” he agreed. “Oikawa’s gonna make us get different style suits then. But we can’t do the same combination as him and Iwa or Hanamaki and Matsukawa.” 

Kyoutani wrinkled his nose. “Why are there so many different types of suits?” 

“Have you ever even owned a suit?” Yahaba laughed.

“Do I look like someone who’s ever had a reason to own a suit?” 

He snorted and pulled up some pictures on his phone. “Oikawa apparently decided I was the one who had to help pick out the suits this year since he pissed Iwa off when he tried to make him help.”

“You seem like the type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re telling me you weren’t the ring bearer in at least three weddings growing up?’

Yahaba’s face flushed. “Shut up.”

Kyoutani chuckled and looked at the pictures he was pulling up. “They all look the same.”

“They’re not, but I’ll explain it really, really basically. Pretty much everyone but Oikawa and Matsukawa are gonna go for the basic blazer over a white button down, okay? Matsukawa’s going for just a vest over the button down and Oikawa’s doing both,” he explained, nearly cringing from how dumbed down it must have been.

“What are you doing?” 

“I was gonna do just the blazer, but if we’re going together, then I can’t because we’d match Oikawa and Iwa or Matsukawa and Hanamaki.”

“Oh,” Kyoutani said, still somewhat confused by the different suits he was looking at. “I don’t like any of them.”

“Which do you hate the least?”

“The vest,” he said almost at once. It didn’t look nearly as suffocation as the other two did. 

Yahaba nodded. “I figured that’s what you were gonna pick. I think that one makes the most sense for you, anyway. Guess that means Oikawa and I are being extra together.”

Kyoutani grinned. “I’m gonna tease the fuck out of you.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

-

The team -Matsukawa and Hanamaki excluded- seemed nothing less than confused and shocked when Yahaba told them that he and Kyoutani would be attending the dance together. Their confusion ebbed mildly when Kyoutani added that it was mainly just so that they both didn’t have to worry about finding dates. 

Yahaba was quiet again for the rest of the day and the day after. With the suit measuring after practice, he didn’t really blame him. Given what had happened the year before, every day that they got closer to the dance and everything that made it more real was just adding to the anxiety he was facing. 

They’d fallen into a habit of Kyoutani taking his hand when Yahaba was pulling his hair. During lunch, practices, or walks home, they spent a good amount of time linked at the hand, but no one seemed to pay much attention or notice since their hands were often hidden under tables or desks.

Yahaba had even caught himself going for his hair on more than one occasion and taken Kyoutani’s hand instead. Every time that had happened, Kyoutani’s stomach flipped, and he thought he was going to throw up. 

He did it again when they were sitting in the waiting room at the suit shop, waiting for Oikawa to get fitted. He squeezed Kyoutani’s hand harder than normal, his knee bouncing up and down as he stared down at his phone. 

Kyoutani nudged him with his elbow, but Yahaba didn’t look up. He sighed and leaned forward to rest his chin on Yahaba’s shoulder, watching him scroll through Instagram aimlessly. His leg stopped bouncing and his grip loosened. Eventually, he let go of Kyoutani’s hand to shove Kindaichi off the other side of the couch for saying something stupid and laughed loudly.

Kyoutani preferred him laughing. 

They went in order of age, so when Watari had finished being fitted, Kyoutani begrudgingly got up with a push from Yahaba. The lady measuring them handed him a white button down shirt to put on under the vest he was being fitted for and Yahaba gave a low whistle as he pulled his shirt off to put it on.

Everyone chuckled and Kyoutani threw his discarded shirt at Yahaba, flipping him off. She took some basic measurements before he put on the matching slacks and vest so she could start pinning for the necessary adjustments. 

He caught Yahaba taking pictures of him like he often did when Kyoutani was in an uncomfortable position and made a break to snatch his phone, but the lady stepped on his foot to keep him where he was.

“You’re going to mess up your pins and we’re going to have to start over,” she scolded. “Is that what you want?”

“No, ma’am.”

Yahaba snorted and looked down at his phone, Kindaichi watching over his shoulder and snickering. Kyoutani’s phone lit up where it was sitting next to Yahaba on the couch, and both of them burst into laughter. 

The lady shook her head. “You know, when I opened this shop, I didn’t know I was signing up to be a part time babysitting for teenage boys and rambunctious groomsmen.” 

“You’ve got your hands full with our group,” Kyoutani agreed, glaring at Yahaba.

Yahaba stuck his tongue out, and Kyoutani mimicked him, making him smile. 

Kyoutani was willing to take his taunting as long as he wasn’t being quiet anymore. He’d take a lot of taunting if it meant Yahaba would keep smiling and laughing and sticking his tongue out. 

“Alrighty, I’ll take these from you and I’ll get the next person,” she said, helping him out of the clothes without disrupting the pins. Kyoutani changed back into his clothes while Yahaba got up to get fitted for his suit. 

“You’re a skinny one, aren’t you?” the lady asked, grasping at the extra fabric around Yahaba’s thighs. His face lit up in a dark red and Kyoutani grabbed his phone to take a picture before the blush faded. 

“Fuck you,” Yahaba grumbled, covering his face as she pinned his pants. 

“Awe, what’s wrong? You can take pictures of me and post them on the fucking official team Instagram page, but I can’t take pictures of you being all awkward because she noticed you’re about as big around as a twig?”

Yahaba put out one hand to flip him off and Kyoutani did the same in return, taking another picture.

“Awe, how romantic,” Kindaichi cooed, earning a slap to the back of the head.

Kyoutani took his seat back on the couch and checked the Instagram post he’d been tagged in. Whoever had decided that letting Yahaba control the team social medias was a good idea had been an absolute dumbass, and he reminded Iwaizumi -the previous controller of the pages- of that almost weekly. Every picture on the page for almost a year was dorky shots of the team doing seminormal activities outside of volleyball unless it was for actual games when he’d actually put some effort into the posts, but those were few and far between. 

This post was of both Kyoutani and a picture of Watari standing awkwardly in too big pants that Kyoutani hadn’t noticed Yahaba take. The caption said: Stay tuned for annual pictures of the Aoba Johsai Valentine’s Day Dance this weekend. I’m sure that it’ll be nothing short of catastrophic :)

Kyoutani commented several middle finger emojis back. 

He scrolled through some of the other comments that Oikawa’s fangirls had already left and saw that several of them were arguing that they couldn’t be worse than the prior year’s photos.

Kyoutani furrowed his brows and started scrolling through all of the pictures from the year and all the way past the prior year’s graduation before coming to three separate posts of the team in navy suits surrounded by heart shaped balloons and other Valentine’s day themed things. 

He immediately saw what all the comments had been talking about. Everyone seemed completely out of it in the pictures. It felt like he wasn’t even looking at his own team.

Two of the previous year’s graduates were missing and the one’s left were glaring at each other or standing far too close to each other depending on the picture. Kyoutani found himself glad that he hadn’t been there for their argument because he definitely would have hit at least one of them from sheer annoyance.

In every picture, Iwaizumi was standing as far away from Oikawa and his ex-girlfriend as he could, a glass of the spiked punch that Matsukawa had mentioned in hand. He looked pissed, but Oikawa looked worse. His normally perfectly styled hair was all out of place and if him and the girl he was with weren’t screaming at each other in the pictures, they were facing away from each other with tears running down their bright red faces.

Watari was standing with his long term girlfriend, smiling despite the tear streaks all over his face, and his girlfriend seemed to be tolerating the situation at best. Kyoutani always really liked her. She put up with about as much bullshit as he did. That was to say, not much. 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki seemed to be the only normal people in the pictures. They were wrapped around each other, kissing each other’s cheeks, and smiling like their entire team wasn’t falling apart behind them.

His eyes fell to Yahaba, wrapped up in the arm of a guy that Kyoutani had never seen before. He was far taller than Yahaba, even with Yahaba standing generally taller than the average person. His black suit fit tight around his almost aggressively muscular arms, the buttons of his button down straining against the bulk of his chest. He had a disturbingly fake smile plastered across tan skin as he leaned close to Yahaba’s nearly sickly appearance. 

Kyoutani’s stomach churned looking between the pictures and seeing Yahaba getting pulled closer and closer to a guy that he didn’t look pleased to even be standing near. The fact that Kyoutani knew what would happen later in the night, but couldn’t do anything to stop it filled him with a type of anger it wasn’t often he experienced. 

“What’s with the big mad face?” Yahaba asked, flopping down next to him. 

Kyoutani shut off his phone before Yahaba could look at his screen and looked at him, anger softening at the smile on his face. 

“Nothing,” he lied. 

Yahaba gave him a suspicious look. “Okay, sure,” he snorted, pulling his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. “It’s cold in here.”

“Where’s your jacket?” 

“I left in it my bag in Iwa’s car.” 

“Then go get it. It’s just in the parking lot.”

Yahaba grimaced. “He and Oikawa are making out in his car right now.”

“Should have left your jacket in Matsukawa’s car, huh?” 

Yahaba punched him in the arm. “Shut up and give me your jacket. You never run out of body heat.”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes and pulled off his jacket, dropping it in Yahaba’s lap. “Stupid.”

-

Their suits didn’t get finished until the morning of the dance, and Oikawa made everyone come to his house to make sure they fit. 

“Awe, Yahaba, you look so sleepy,” he said, ruffling Yahaba’s bedhead. 

Yahaba slapped his hand away, eyes filled with post-waking up rage. “Yeah, maybe because I was planning on sleeping in for once and now we’re all standing in your living at seven in the morning.”

Kyoutani snorted a laugh from where he was sitting on Oikawa’s couch, just as sleep deprived as Yahaba, but a little less angry. It was Yahaba’s fault that they’d been up playing video games until almost four in the morning. When they’d woken up because both of their phones were being blown up with texts from Oikawa, Yahaba had been even more pissed, but a cup of coffee and stealing Kyoutani’s sweater had calmed him down ever so slightly.

He sat down next to Kyoutani, leaning into his arm and shutting his eyes. “If anyone touches me, I’m yanking their arms off.”

Kyoutani wrapped his arm around Yahaba’s shoulders to give him a more comfortable place to lie, and Yahaba hid his face in Kyoutani’s ribs. 

“It’s your fault for insisting we play so fucking late.” 

Yahaba shoved his finger into Kyoutani’s side. “Shut up, you didn’t stop me.”

They went into Oikawa’s master bathroom two at a time to change, everyone taking a fairly long time given their grogginess. Yahaba and Kyoutani were at the bottom of the suit pile, which made them last in line to change, giving Kyoutani plenty of time to rest his head on top of Yahaba’s and close his eyes. Even when the groups started to come out of the bathroom, talking loudly about their suits, Yahaba was completely still against his side save for the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. 

Iwaizumi kicked Kyoutani in the foot. “Your turn.”

Kyoutani frowned, rubbing his thumb over Yahaba’s arm. “Come on, dumbass. We gotta try on the stupid suits.”

Yahaba squirmed, pressing his face further into Kyoutani’s side and letting out a soft noise of indigence.

“I’ll push you onto the floor if you don’t get up.”

“I’ll just sleep on the floor,” he grumbled, though he finally lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. “It’s too fucking bright in here.”

Kyoutani stood, grabbing Yahaba’s hands and pulling him from the couch. “You’re pathetic.”

Yahaba stumbled behind him all the way into the bathroom while Kyoutani carried both of the bags holding their suits. He hung them up on the back of the door and started to pull different parts from the bags, first taking the button down shirts and handing Yahaba his. He frowned down at it, his eyes still slightly unfocused. 

Kyoutani knocked his fist against Yahaba’s head a couple of times. “Anyone in there?”

“No,” he said, his voice whiney. 

“Okay,” he snorted, setting the shirt on the counter and pulling at Yahaba’s sweatshirt until he put his hands up for Kyoutani to take it off of him. Yahaba immediately curled in on himself, shivering slightly. 

“Cold.”

Kyoutani sighed and helped him slip into the button down, buttoning it up for him because he fully didn’t believe in his ability to button it correctly on his own. 

“You’re putting your pants on by yourself,” he said, handing the slacks to him. 

Yahaba didn’t argue and while Kyoutani put on his own button down and tucked them into his slacks, Yahaba stumbled into his pants and half-heartedly tucked them in so that the shirt left lumps. 

“Really?” he asked, gesturing to his pants. Yahaba looked up at him with sleepy eyes, and Kyoutani frowned. “I’m not tucking in your pants for you, shithead.” 

Yahaba didn’t argue, but also didn’t fix his pants. He put on his vest, Kyoutani buttoned it up for him, and then his blazer, and Kyoutani had to adjust the collar so it laid right. It took significantly less time to dress himself than it did to dress Yahaba.

Back in the living room, Oikawa was immediately fussing over the way Yahaba hadn’t tucked in his shirt right, and Yahaba shoved him when he offered to help. “So angry!” he sighed before turning back to Watari, whose collar was thoroughly fucked up.

“Good! Looks like everyone’s fits,” Oikawa said happily when Watari’s collar had been fixed. “I’m going to order breakfast for everyone if you’d like to stay. We can watch romance movies! It’ll be fun.”

Several of them groaned, but no one said anything about planning to leave. Slowly, everyone changed back into their normal clothes (Kyoutani had to help Yahaba hang up his clothes since he insisted on sitting on the bathroom floor as he changed). 

Oikawa’s living room was large enough to hold a massive sectional and several big, comfy chairs that the couples had first call on. While Kindaichi and Kunimi were in charge of picking a romance movie from the massive DVD collection under the TV, Oikawa and Iwaizumi got under a big blanket in the biggest of the chairs, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa took the other one. Watari took the third, smallest chair and that left the other four to lie out on the couch. 

Yahaba had gone on the search for more coffee, so Kyoutani laid on one end of the sectional, leaving the other end for Kunimi and Kindaichi when they’d put the movie in. He rested his head back on the arm of the couch and paid very little attention to the beginning scene of the movie he’d never even heard of, but Oikawa insisted was one of his favorites.

Yahaba reemerged from the kitchen with a massive mug of coffee and stopped in front of the TV, frowning. “Wow, thanks for saving me a seat, that’s super nice of you,” he grumbled at everyone.

“Kyoutani’s taking up half the couch,” Kindaichi argued, gesturing to the way Kyoutani was laying. 

“I’m not moving.”

Yahaba set his mug down on the coffee table and crossed his arms. “Move.”

“No.”

“Move.”

“No.” 

“Just a little?”

“Nope.”

“Fine, I’ll just lay on you,” he huffed.

“Okay,” Kyoutani said, not taking his eyes from the screen until Yahaba was actually situating himself on his chest. Yahaba was still wearing the sweater he’d stolen from Kyoutani’s closet that morning, though his smell was far overwhelming Kyoutani’s. It was his stupid, all natural body wash that Kyoutani had hated at first, but eventually grew to find somewhat comforting.

“Why are you so warm all the time?” he mumbled into Kyoutani’s chest. “I’m freezing, see?” He slipped his hands under Kyoutani’s shirts and pressed his freezing hands to his skin.

“For fuck’s sake! Do you retain no body heat? What the fuck?” 

Yahaba laughed into his shirt. “I’m always colder in the morning.”

“That’s so fucked. I think your body hates you.” He pressed his hands to Yahaba’s cold cheeks and then to his neck and then under the neckline of his sweater. “Are you sure you’re alive? There’s no way you can stay this cold for extended periods of time and be alive.”

“Unfortunately.”

Yahaba kept his hands under Kyoutani’s shirt, and he didn’t really mind. He was busy moving his hands from Yahaba’s neck to his lower back where his sweater was coming up and back again in an attempt to keep him warm. 

Thirty minutes into the movie, Yahaba’s breathing slowed down again, and he stopped answering Kyoutani when he mentioned something about the characters in the movie stupidly dodging each other’s advances even though they both knew they were in love. 

Kyoutani sighed, running one hand up and down Yahaba’s back under his sweater and the other through his hair, something he’d recently come to realize after they’d started having their own movie nights at the end of every week, put Yahaba to sleep in five minutes flat no matter the movie or the noise level or how not tired he’d been previously. 

Kyoutani looked around at the team spread across the dark living room. It seemed that hardly anyone was actually watching the movie, most either asleep or on their phones, not paying attention to the cheesy relationship blossoming on Oikawa’s TV.

In the biggest armchair, Iwaizumi was on his phone, Oikawa’s head on his chest as he watched the movie intently. 

Hanamaki had apparently fallen asleep, given the way he was facing away from the TV and Matsukawa was holding him close. Matsukawa wasn’t really watching the movie either, his eyes on Hanamaki as he slept.

Watari was on his phone like Iwaizumi, the small smile on his face meaning he was texting his girlfriend. 

At the other end of the couch, Kindaichi had curled up with his head in Kunimi’s lap and his knees hugged to his chest. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was faster than it would have been if he were really asleep. Kunimi didn’t even seem to pay attention to him, both hands on his phone and earbuds in. 

He looked back to the chair where Hanamaki and Matsukawa were and locked eyes with the latter. Matsukawa grinned at him, looking over the way Yahaba was lying on him. Kyoutani glared at him, pulling the hand from under Yahaba’s shirt and flipping him off. 

Yahaba shifted, making a soft noise and turning his head over on Kyoutani’s chest so he was facing away from the TV. Kyoutani watched him for a moment, making sure he was still asleep before replacing the hand on his back and continuing to play with his hair. 

Matsukawa was still smirking at him, but Kyoutani didn’t care enough to flip him off again. 

Yahaba stayed completely asleep through the entire movie until the doorbell rang and Oikawa hurried to untangle himself from Iwaizumi to collect two massive delivery bags of food. He turned on the overhead light and everyone who’d been asleep or almost asleep groaned and covered their eyes. 

“Hmph,” Yahaba grumbled, lifting his head and squinting around at the slowly rising team. “Hungry.”

Kyoutani waited while Yahaba pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes. He was still sitting on Kyoutani’s thighs, though he didn’t seem to notice or care for the few minutes that he was still waking up. 

“Feel better?” he asked, finally sitting up when Yahaba rolled off his legs and pulled his knees to his chest, watching the others start to find their food and move back to their seats.

“Yeah,” he said, hardly audible with his sleepy voice. “You’re comfy.”

Kyoutani chuckled and collected both of their takeout boxes, handing Yahaba his and a pair of chopsticks. “Thanks. You’re unreasonably cold.” 

Yahaba nodded, stabbing at a piece of fish with his chopsticks. “I know.” 

-

They all hung out at Oikawa’s house for the rest of the day, watching movies, eating, playing games, and Yahaba took another nap, this time tucked into Watari’s side while he played poker with Kunimi.

When he woke up, he was back to his normal self, bickering and laughing with everyone else like he hadn’t been sleepy and grouchy until well after noon. 

They played Truth or Dare but stopped after only three turns with Kyoutani dared Kunimi to take a shot of Oikawa’s parents vodka and he almost did. This instead turned to three games of Never Have I Ever where Iwaizumi or Hanamaki got out first in two of the games, and in the third round Yahaba decided he didn’t want to play anymore when the questions started turning sexual and Kindaichi had followed suit. 

Iwaizumi got out first two rounds later.

“Alrighty, we should definitely start getting ready,” Oikawa announced, checking the time on his phone. “Same groups in the bathroom as earlier. I’ll bring some mirrors out here to fix hair and stuff so that way no one can take up all the time in the bathroom.”

“So that  _ you  _ can’t take up all the time in the bathroom?” Matsukawa asked, smirking.

“Shush.”

Thirty minutes later, Yahaba and Kyoutani were lugging the bags they’d brought with them that morning, along with their suits into the bathroom to change. 

Kyoutani tucked his button down into his pants and sat on the counter while Yahaba did the same, offering him more room to pull on the various parts of his suit that Kyoutani didn’t have. While Yahaba was changing all on his own, Kyoutani pulled out a bottle of black nail polish.

“We’re supposed to wait to do shit like that until we’re not hogging the bathroom,” Yahaba reminded, watching as Kyoutani carefully painted every nail before capping the bottle. 

“Yeah, well, we’re the last people to change and I didn’t want any of them to bump me while I did this.”

“Fair.” Yahaba shrugged and took the hand Kyoutani wasn’t blowing on to observe. “I’ve never seen your nails painted.”

Kyoutani shrugged. “I don’t do it as much anymore. It chips really fast when you’re playing, so it’s not really worth it.”

“I like it,” he said decidedly, offering Kyoutani a soft smile as he sat on the toilet lid to pull on a pair of socks the same light blue as all of their ties, though they were also covered in small red hearts.

“Festive,” he commented, and Yahaba grinned.

“Thanks, I’ve got socks for all the holidays.”

“I’m not shocked.”

Kyoutani put on his vest, making quick but careful work of the buttons so he didn’t smudge his nail polish and looked into the mirror. He held back a grimace. Seeing himself so formal disturbed him far more than it should have.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like it,” he said, stretching out his arms in front of him. The button down and vest fit well. They looked great, even. Just… not on him. It looked out of place on his body, with his hair and his scowl and his painted nails. He loosened the tie, hoping it’d change something about his put together appearance, but it didn’t.

Yahaba frowned at him in the mirror, probably sensing that his discomfort far surpassed his normal levels of discomfort that stemmed from just being in close proximity with other people. 

“Hey,” Yahaba said softly, running a hand over Kyoutani’s arms. “Breathe. You look like you’re about to explode.”

Kyoutani rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from the mirror. “I don’t want to go to the stupid fucking dance looking like some professional pretty boy.”

“Why not? You look good.”

He shook his head, tugging at the tie again even though it made no difference. “It makes me want to crawl out my skin.” 

Yahaba gave him a sympathetic look. “Can I help?” 

“I don’t know what you can do.” 

“Here,” he offered, unbuttoning the cuff of one of Kyoutani’s sleeves. He rolled up the sleeve until it rested right under his elbow and then copied it on the other sleeve. “Is that better?” 

Kyoutani looked at himself in the mirror again and nodded. “Yeah. It’s not as… I don’t know.”

“Put together?” Yahaba asked, rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out a set of chairs and hooked them to Kyoutani’s belt loops so they hung down to about his midthigh. It was something that he’d worn before, mainly with ripped skinny jeans and never with formal slacks, though.

“Why do you just have chains in your backpack?”

“Remember when I was a punk rock guy for Halloween?” Kyoutani nodded. He’d gone as a hippie to match. “That was part of my costume. I took it off because I couldn’t stop messing with it, and then I never took it out of my bag.” 

Kyoutani looked in the mirror and adjusted his sleeves a little. He felt significantly less like he wanted to punch the person looking back at him. 

“Thanks.”

Yahaba smiled and nodded. “You look cool.” 

“Not as much like a professional pretty boy?”

Yahaba pat his chest. “No one would let you work a professional job looking like that.”

“Perfect.”

Yahaba chuckled and collected his things. “You ready to be the most attractive not couple in all the group photos?” 

Kyoutani opened his mouth to agree, to laugh, to say something, but his brain stalled out. Agreeing would hurt. He knew that much.

It would feel like he was being stabbed in the chest all because Yahaba had just made him go from wanting to ditch the dance and the team all together because he hated how he looked. Because Yahaba hadn’t said shit about how he was a guy that painted his nails. Because Yahaba had agreed to go with him, despite the fact that he didn’t trust people anymore because of something truly shitty that had happened to him. 

Because Kyoutani didn’t want to go to the dance with Yahaba just as friends, even though he’d been the one to stupidly suggest it in the first place. 

“Yahaba,” he blurted, instantly regretting it when Yahaba turned to face him. He looked almost hopeful, but Kyoutani didn’t know why. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was planning to say in the first place. Maybe that he didn’t want to just go as friends. Maybe he didn’t even want to be just friends anymore, but the words wouldn’t come out.

He closed his eyes and took a breath and then looked back up. Yahaba offered him an encouraging smile.

“I want-” He paused, looking down at his nail polish. “I wanted to tell you that you look really nice in your stupid fancy suit. Even if you look like a professional pretty boy.”

“Thanks,” Yahaba laughed. “You look really nice too, for a not professional pretty boy.”

Kyoutani swallowed down everything that had bubbled up and forced out a laugh that didn’t sound genuine, even to his own ear. He grabbed his things and followed Yahaba into the living room, where Oikawa almost went into cardiac arrest at the sight of him.

“That is not how you’re supposed to wear that!”

“Your other option is I go home,” Kyoutani said, dropping his bag by the door. 

Oikawa rolled his eyes and ran a comb through his hair. “Guess that’s the best I’m going to get then.”

Matsukawa pat the top of Kyoutani’s head and he resisted the urge to swat him away. “You clean up good.”

He glared at Matsukawa’s appearance. “You all look stupid.”

“He doesn’t do formal,” Yahaba informed. 

“I will hate every fucking second of this stupid dance, and I’m fully prepared to make everyone’s problem,” Kyoutani said, dropping onto the couch next to where Yahaba was trying to flatten his hair down with something Iwaizumi had handed him. 

“We can hate it together, don’t worry,” he chuckled, not taking his eyes off of his own reflection.

Kyoutani met Matsukawa’s eyes, and they both frowned. As much as he didn’t feel like he’d have a good time in a room where most of his peers were grinding on each other and screaming along to shitty music, he would be with Yahaba, and that was enough to make the whole stupid dance worth all of it. 

He just needed to make Yahaba feel the same. He wanted to make sure that no matter what; he had a good time, even if it was because he was laughing at Kyoutani’s suffering or because he was dancing with someone much more well suited for him than Kyoutani was.

As long as Yahaba was smiling for a little over half of the night, Kyoutani would be happy.

“Limo’s here!” Watari shouted from the door where he and his girlfriend were standing. 

“The what?” Kyoutani groaned and Yahaba grinned at him. 

“What? Don’t like the sound of going to a school dance in a limo?” 

“Nothing sounds more fucking annoying,” he groaned, joining the group at the door as they slipped their shoes on and started out towards the pale blue (of fucking course it was pale blue if Oikawa had rented it) stretch limo parked in front of the house. 

“You’re not,” Oikawa shrieked, hiding his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Oh, Mad Dog, you’re killing me!  _ Combat boots? _ Are you on drugs? I let you get away with the rolled up sleeves and the chains and the nail polish, but the boots? Oh, he’s killing me!”

“He’s fine, babe. The fact that he’s going should be enough,” Iwaizumi chuckled. “I was fully prepared to go find you because we all thought you were going to ditch.”

Kyoutani snorted a laugh. “Glad you all have faith in me.”

They piled into the limo one by one, Kyoutani stuff between Yahaba and Kunimi. 

“What happened to your date?” he asked, noticing that the only person who had shown up that wasn’t on the team was Watari’s girlfriend.

He shrugged. “Figured it’d just be easier if Kindaichi and I go as friends like you two are.” 

“You ditched your girlfriend for Kindaichi?” Yahaba asked skeptically.

Under the LED lights, Kyoutani couldn’t quite tell, but he thought that Kunimi’s cheeks seemed to grow a dark blush at the question.

“Are you two really going as ‘just friends’ after cuddling like you were during the movie? Seems kinda weird to me,” he snapped back, grinning when Yahaba sunk back into his seat. Kyoutani resisted the urge to punch him. “Mind your own business. I know neither of you want to be here and neither do I. Let’s pay each other the mutual respect of staying out of each other’s shit so we can get through this, yeah?”

“Okie dokie!” Oikawa said, clapping his hands together, clearly unaware of any tension between his teammates. “When we get there, we have to go in as a group, do a round of the dance floor, dance to at least one song together, get in line for pictures, take pictures, and then you’re free to do whatever you want. Just, try not to leave early or get kicked out, alright? If we all leave at once, we get ice cream after!”

“Kyoutani,” Yahaba laughed.

He glanced at the amusement on his face. “What?”

“You, like, recoiled when he said we have to dance.” 

Kyoutani hummed in mild agreement and leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I’ll be jumping out a window around the time that you’re all doing that.” 

“Awe, what’s wrong? Can’t dance in your cool leather boots?” Oikawa seethed.

“I don’t dance.”

“Not even with me?” Yahaba asked, poking him in the ribs. “I can’t dance for shit! It’ll be a disaster, but it’ll be hilarious!”

It was an absolute cluster fuck. 

Yahaba was far more uncoordinated than Kyoutani could have ever imagined

While the rest of the group was dancing to a soft pop song that made Kyoutani want to scratch his ears out with a fork, Yahaba was stumbling over both of their feet and absolutely cackling with laughter. 

“It’s just rotating in a circle,” Kyoutani said through his own laughter, tightening his hold on Yahaba’s waist when he nearly tripped again. It wasn’t like the overly decorated school cafeteria had much for Yahaba to be tripping over.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki moved past them in a graceful circle, smiling at them as they passed. 

“How do they do that?” Yahaba breathed out between laughter. “There’s so many feet to trip over!”

“How do you even function on a volleyball court?” 

“Volleyball and dancing are very different things, Kyoutani!” The song came to a close and Yahaba backed up quickly, hardly managing not to trip again as he did so. “Congratulations! You’ve just been graced with my exceptional dancing skills, you’re so welcome.”

“I feel like I just dragged you across the floor and didn’t drop you,” Kyoutani grumbled as they were forced into the group moving towards the picture area. 

“I do appreciate that you didn’t let me fall.”

“Oh yeah, that would have been really nice. Let you get stomped on by Oikawa’s stupid heeled shoes? That’s medieval torture shit.”

“I heard that!” Oikawa snapped, turning around to face him.

Kyoutani nodded. “That was intentional.” 

“What do you wanna do in the pictures?” Yahaba asked when Oikawa had turned back around. His laughing had worn off, but there was still a soft smile on his face that Kyoutani found himself staring at. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled. “Anything you want.”

“Can’t be worse than last year’s pictures,” Yahaba chuckled nervously. 

“Yeah, I saw them,” he said, picking at some nail polish that he’d gotten on his skin. “Seemed like no one was having a very good time.”

“Oh.”

He looked at Yahaba and the way his face was suddenly pale and he was starting to pull at his hair again. Kyoutani took his hand and squeezed it. “What?”

“I just- I didn’t know you’d seen them.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

He shrugged, pulling his hand back to pick at his cuticles. “I don’t know.”

“‘Cause you don’t want me to know about the guy you came with last year or something?”

Yahaba’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and his frown deepened. “Why wouldn’t I want you to know about that?”

Kyoutani felt like he was being tested. Yahaba wanted to know what he knew, and Kyoutani didn’t know how to answer. He knew more than he probably should have, and if Yahaba knew that he knew he’d either blow up at Matsukawa for exposing something he wasn’t okay with being talked about or he’d shut down. Maybe he’d just leave all together. 

“I don’t know. You just looked really uncomfortable in the pictures, I figured it wasn’t really something you wanted to talk about,” he said, keeping his eyes on Yahaba. “You never mentioned him to me either so I figured it wasn’t important or you didn’t want to talk about what happened.”

Yahaba didn’t answer, continuing to pick at his cuticles. They moved up one in line, and the rest of the team didn’t seem to notice Yahaba’s sudden shift in demeanor. 

“You can talk to me if you want to,” Kyoutani added. 

“I don’t want to.”

“At all or just about the big guy?”

Yahaba looked at him. “I don’t want to look back on these pictures and hate them as much as I hate last year’s. I want to remember being happy with the team… and with you.”

They moved up in line again.

“I just don’t want to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable like you were last year when he was holding you too close.”

“You couldn’t bother me like he did,” Yahaba said, sounding very sure but also so fucking sad. “I promise you that much.” 

“Does that mean you don’t think I could hurt you like he did?” 

“I-” Yahaba snapped his mouth shut and looked away. He lifted his hand to his hair, but immediately shoved it in his pocket instead. His face was completely void of color, even under the flashing lights of the dance. He looked ready to run at any moment.

“Yahaba,” he said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, but Yahaba shrugged him off. “Talk to me.”

“No.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid?”

“What happened. Why I’m upset. Everything about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he might have been a shitty person,” he snapped, voice raising slightly. “But I always act like I can take care of myself. I act bigger and stronger and smarter than I am, but when it comes down to it-” He took a breath and looked up at Kyoutani. “When it comes down to it, I couldn’t take care of myself against a guy who was completely hammered. He wasn’t even really trying to hold me down or anything, and I couldn’t get myself to fight because I’m weak.”

“That’s not your fault,” Kyoutani said on instinct. “That’s not- how could you think like that? Something shitty was happening, and you froze up. It happens, Yahaba. That doesn’t make you weak. That makes you human.”

The photographer called them all up and Kyoutani didn’t take his eyes off Yahaba as they found their place in the back row. 

“Tell me you believe that,” he urged quietly as the photographer moved around to adjust the order people were standing. Kyoutani grabbed Yahaba’s arm when she’d moved past them and forced him to look at him. “Tell me you know that whatever happened wasn’t your fault.”

Yahaba looked away again. The tears welling up in his eyes were reflecting the big lights the photographer had out. Kyoutani shook his shoulder to try to get his attention.

“Yahaba, look at me.”

“Okay, we’ve got six pictures. I’ll give you time to readjust between all six. Just make sure that you aren’t blocking out the person behind you, okay?” 

“Yahaba-”

“You don’t know what happened!” he yelled, though it was drowned out by the music and the chatter around them. Hanamaki, standing on Kyoutani’s other side, still turned to look at them though, concern etched between his brows.

“Then talk to me!”

He could vaguely hear the countdown, see the flash of light as Yahaba looked at him, a single tear slipping down his cheek. 

“You’ll never be able to look at me the same when I tell you.”

“Try me.” 

He felt so sure. Looking at Yahaba in a suit that they’d picked out specifically so that they could appease Oikawa’s standards as dates. Looking at him, facing jumping with the different lights of the dance as he cried. Kyoutani was sure that nothing he could tell him would change a thing about the way he looked at Yahaba.

The way he liked him more than he’d ever liked a person in his life. The way he wanted to be with him.

“Try me, Yahaba, seriously. Make me see you as anything other than incredible, I fucking dare you.”

Yahaba took a deep breath, looking down as the next flash went off.

“No matter how many times you or anyone else says that it couldn’t be my fault, it was. It was my fault,” he said, looking back up at him as everyone around them shifted for the next picture. “I initiated everything. I gave him more punch than he should have had, and I took him into the stairwell. I figured it’d be easier for someone like him to find me attractive enough to fuck around was if he was too drunk to think about it too much.”

Kyoutani winced and closed his eyes, desperately wanting to avoid looking into Yahaba’s watery eyes. It felt like someone had just shoved a butcher knife into his chest. 

“See,” Yahaba said softly, and Kyoutani felt him move. 

Kyoutani grabbed his wrist before he could even try to push past Hanamaki and Matsukawa to leave. He pulled him back hard enough that Yahaba stumbled into him, grabbing onto his arm to steady himself.

The third flash went off. 

“Don’t shit like that about yourself,” he said, fully aware that he sounded pissed because he was. “You deserve better than some drunk asshole who doesn’t know or care about you. You’re worth so much more than anything someone like him could give you.”

Yahaba swallowed, another tear falling down his cheek. Kyoutani wiped it away. 

“I don’t know how you could think something like that about me,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m a fuck up when it comes to relationships. I’m so scared of getting hurt or hurting someone else that I just avoid it completely.”

“That makes me so angry, Yahaba. Because that means someone that deserves you, that’ll treat you how you deserve doesn’t get to be with you. And goddamnit, you deserve everything good someone has to offer you.” 

Yahaba closed his eyes and looked down, bottom lip wobbling. “Why are you being so nice to me? Aren’t you supposed to hate everyone and everything?”

Kyoutani took Yahaba’s face between his hands and forced him to look up at him. “I don’t want to be here as just friends, Yahaba.” 

The flash went off again and Kyoutani had to blink a few times before Yahaba came back into focus. 

“I don’t either,” Yahaba breathed. 

“I was being a pussy when I didn’t just ask you to come as like a date date.” 

He nodded a little. “Yeah, you are kind of a pussy sometimes.”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes, but mimicked the small smile on Yahaba’s face. “I want you to not have a shitty time tonight and I want you to not have a shitty time with me.”

“Is that really how you’re asking me out?” 

“Yes,” Kyoutani said decidedly. “Yahaba, will you have a not shitty time with me tonight?”

Yahaba laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I will.”

Kyoutani couldn’t hold back his smile as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Yahaba’s. Yahaba leaned into him, the hand on Kyoutani’s arm tightening and the other moving to wrap around his neck. 

He could see the fifth flash go off through his eyelids and couldn’t help but smile, knowing that their first of hopefully many, many more kisses would be documented forever. 

Kyoutani moved one of his hands to the back of Yahaba’s head, threading his fingers through his soft curls and tilting his head back to deepen the kiss further.

“Holy shit!” someone yelled behind Kyoutani, but he was too distracted by Yahaba’s tongue running along his bottom lip to hear who exactly it was. “Fucking finally!”

There was cheering amongst their teammates and Yahaba laughed again Kyoutani’s lips. Kyoutani nipped at his bottom lip and Yahaba’s laugh turned into a soft noise that Kyoutani swallowed whole.

The sixth and final flash went off and there were hands on Kyoutani’s back.

“Come on, lovebirds, next people’s turn!” Hanamaki said through laughter. 

Slowly, the team forced Yahaba and Kyoutani to separate enough to move out of the way of the next group getting in line for pictures. 

“Those pictures are going to be hysterical,” Kindaichi said.

“They’re going to be ridiculous,” Kunimi corrected. “I was picked up against my will.”

Yahaba’s hand found Kyoutani’s, but judging by the massive smile on his face, Kyoutani assumed that it was much less because he was thinking about pulling his hair and much more just because he could. 

“They’re gonna be so gay,” Matsukawa said, wrapping an arm around Hanamaki’s waist.

“As they should be!” Oikawa said, face split in a wide smile. 

“Am I the only straight guy on the team?” Watari grumbled, hand linked with his girlfriend’s. 

Yahaba looked around, as if cataloging everyone, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Hey!” Kindaichi argued. 

Everyone gave him an amused look, and his face reddened. “I’m going to the snack table.”

Kunimi followed him and Watari’s girlfriend said she wouldn’t mind some punch given it wasn’t mostly vodka, so she and Watari left as well. 

“Iwa, come dance with me,” Oikawa urged.

“I don’t want to dance-” but he was already being dragged to the dance floor by the hand.

Matsukawa slapped Kyoutani on the back and Hanamaki wrapped an arm around Yahaba’s shoulders. 

“That was quite a passionate little moment you guys had back there,” Matsukawa said, smirking.

Kyoutani elbowed him in the side. “Go away.” 

“Awe, Makki, I think they want some alone time,” he said, winking as they start back towards the dance floor. 

“You know how easy it’d be for me to push them all down the stairs and make it look like an accident?” 

Yahaba shook his head and wrapped his arms around Kyoutani’s waist, pulling him into a hug. He buried his face in the crook of Kyoutani’s neck and hummed contently when Kyoutani hugged him back. 

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” 

“For talking me through that. I haven’t really talked about what happened since… well, since it happened. I’ve just been holding it all in for a long time.” 

Kyoutani kissed the side of his head. “You’ve always got me to talk to. I’m not always the best with advice or anything… but I can listen and I can get mad with you when you need me to.”

“I appreciate that a lot.”

“You know what I appreciate?” Kyoutani asked, pulling back and cupping Yahaba’s cheeks. “That you’re fucking pretty to look at.”

Yahaba gave him an amused smile. “Thank you, Kyou. I assume I’ll be getting a lot of really eloquently worded compliments out of this relationship?”

Kyoutani only grunted at this and leaned in to meet his and Yahaba’s lips again. His lips were soft and considerably warmer than the rest of him. He thought briefly about kissing Yahaba’s hands and his bare back to help warm him up in the mornings when he was coldest. 

He gripped Yahaba’s hips and forced them closer, pulling out a disgruntled noise from Yahaba’s throat as he clung to Kyoutani’s shoulders.

Something that Kyoutani figured out very quickly was that their slacks were fitted in all the right areas, therefore leaving very little room for growth that wouldn’t be noticed. 

He pulled back, gasping for breath, and glanced at the group getting their photos taken. Even though none of them were paying him and Yahaba any attention, he still felt way more exposed than he wanted to be. 

“C’mon,” he muttered, taking Yahaba by the wrist and pulling him further away from the cafeteria where the dance was being held and into the darkened hallways where their classrooms were lightless and locked. 

“Where’re we going?” 

Kyoutani ignored him, continuing down the hallway until they found a set of double doors that lead into the old choir room that had later been turned into a storage room for unused desks and things when the new choir room had been added onto the building. 

“You know we can’t get in there if the door’s locked- Kyoutani!” Yahaba gasped when Kyoutani lifted his leg and pulled a Swiss Army Knife from a pocket he’d stitched into the inside of his combat boot. “Why do you have that?”

Kyoutani grinned at him. “Lots of reasons. Sexy, isn’t it?” He held it up to the little bit of moonlight coming through the window in the hallway. 

“What, the knife or the fact that you just carry it around?” Despite the annoyance in his tone, Yahaba didn’t take his eyes off Kyoutani's hands as he pulled out the smallest tool in the knife and stuck it into the keyhole. He jiggled it around for a second until he heard a soft click and he could push the door open. 

He stuck it back in his boot and looked back up at Yahaba, still looking at him like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. “What?”

Then Yahaba’s hands were on him, and he was being backed against a wall. “Yeah,” Yahaba said against Kyoutani’s lips as he kissed him. “Sexy is definitely how I’d describe it.” 

Kyoutani let Yahaba pin him against the wall, lacing their fingers together as he kissed him hot and heavy. His hips pressed forward against Kyoutani’s, the tent in Yahaba’s slacks leaving very little to the imagination. He rutted forward and Kyoutani let out a huffed moan. 

“Fuck, wait,” he breathed, letting go of one of Yahaba’s hands to grab his face, pulling it back far enough that he had a little room to breathe. “Yahaba, we don’t have to do anything, you know? If you don’t want to. We can take it slow… we  _ should _ take it slow. I don’t want you to get overwhelmed or regret anything. Not when it comes to us.” 

Yahaba let out a couple heavy breaths, leaning into Kyoutani’s hands. “I just- I’ve wanted to kiss you, to touch you for so fucking long, Kyoutani. I kept it together for months because I thought you were straight or that you wouldn’t ever like me the way I liked you.”

“Oh fuck that,” Kyoutani sighed, leaning his forehead against Yahaba’s.

“I don’t want to stop touching you now that I have you. I want to make up for all the time we’ve lost being convinced we couldn’t be together. I want to make up for what happened at last year’s dance.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, meeting Yahaba’s eyes. “I don’t want to fuck up two dances in a row for you.” 

Yahaba nodded, leaning forward enough to brush his lips with Kyoutani’s. “I want to make this one count for something. I want to have a not shitty time with you.”

“Okay,” he agreed, taking Yahaba’s waist and pulling them flush against each other. “We’ll make this one the best it can possibly be. As not shitty as a stupid high school dance can be.”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, catching Kyoutani’s lips again. 

Kyoutani pressed his thigh up into the tent in Yahaba’s slacks and he bucked against the pressure, letting out a gasping moan. Yahaba’s hands ran over Kyoutani’s shoulders and down his arms. He caught Kyoutani’s wrist and guided his hand to cup his bulge. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, pulling back from the kiss to look down at where Kyoutani was palming his cock through his slacks. Kyoutani moved to mouth at Yahaba’s neck, sucking and nipping at his skin as Yahaba grinded against his hand, moaning loudly. 

Kyoutani pulled back completely, scanning the darkness of the room until he found an unused teacher’s desk sitting against the closest wall. He moved his hands to grab Yahaba’s ass and picked him up easily. Yahaba clung onto him as he moved them to the desk and laid him down gently on top of it. He stood back, observing Yahaba sprawled out in front of him. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” 

He quickly discarded his vest and untucked his shirt from his slacks before crawling onto the desk and settling between Yahaba’s legs. He leaned down to kiss him against while he started to work at the buttons of his suit. 

“Too many fucking layers,” he groaned when he finally got down to the button down and pulled his tie loose. Yahaba laughed, starting to work the top buttons while Kyoutani worked from the bottom up. They met in the middle and Kyoutani sat up so that Yahaba could throw it all to the floor. He laid back, completely shirtless under Kyoutani, and gave him a sheepish smile. 

“You’re staring.”

“Yeah, I do that a lot, just normally not while you’re looking,” he admitted, and he could feel Yahaba squirm a little under him. “It’s bullshit that you don’t think you’re attractive enough for people to want you. It makes me really fucking mad.”

Yahaba took hold of the tie that Kyoutani had yet to take off and pulled him down so that their faces were just barely apart. “I’m still trying to cope with the fact that you’re one of those people that could ever want me.” 

“God, if you knew how hot you are-” Kyoutani traced his hands up Yahaba’s chest. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Yahaba nodded, running his hand under Kyoutani’s shirt while Kyoutani kissed his chest. He left what he was sure would turn into bright purple hickeys in not even an hour all over Yahaba’s collarbones and chest, trying to take as much of him in as he could. 

He found Yahaba’s nipple in the darkness and ran his tongue over it. Yahaba arched into him so Kyoutani continued, nipping and sucking at both of his nipples before continuing down and kissing his stomach until he met the waistband of his pants.

“Can I?” he asked softly, thumbs grazing the skin above Yahaba’s belt.

“I’m so gonna be so pissed if you don’t.”

Kyoutani unfastened his best and undid his fly carefully, giving Yahaba time to back out if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He was arching into Kyoutani’s hands as he pulled the slacks down his hips and exposing his underwear. 

“You too,” he said, tugging at the sleeve of Kyoutani’s shirt. “Take it off.”

Kyoutani nodded, taking his hands from Yahaba to undo his own shirt and tie and throw them both to the floor with everything else. He met Yahaba’s eyes in the darkness as he moved to undo his own belt. 

Yahaba sat up when Kyoutani pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs, his hands tracing Kyoutani’s thighs and ass and all the way up his bare back until he was pulling him back down on top of him to kiss him again. Kyoutani’s exposed member rubbed up against Yahaba’s stomach and he moaned, jerking his hips to try and keep the friction. 

“Can I touch you?” 

Kyoutani nodded, breathing heavily as Yahaba found his cock between their bodies and started to stroke him while they kissed. He gave himself a moment to simply enjoy the feeling of Yahaba’s hand around him, stroking him gently, thumb dragging precum down his shaft. When he’d fully appreciated it, he pulled Yahaba’s underwear back and found his length, dripping with precum.

They started to work each other in the same rhythm, only diverging from it when one would buck their hips or the other would get momentarily distracted by kissing or leaving marks. 

Kyoutani let out a throaty moan and dropped his head to Yahaba’s shoulder when he felt his orgasm brimming. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Me too,” Yahaba said into his ear. His hips shuddered, thrusting into Kyoutani’s hand. Kyoutani sped up as Yahaba started to come into his hand, moaning out Yahaba’s name when he hit his own orgasm. 

They finished together, slowing down and eventually releasing each other so they could take a moment to just lay there on the desk. Their chests were heaving and Kyoutani was sure that he must be crushing Yahaba under his weight, but his body didn’t want to work yet. It felt like an eternity before he was finally able to push himself up with his clean hand and sit back. 

Yahaba put his hand behind his head and smiled up at Kyoutani. Kyoutani returned the smile and looked around the room again, eventually landing on a bunch of rolls of paper towels sitting with some more unused cleaning supplies.

“See, this was a great spot,” he said, getting off the desk and taking some of the towels to clean up his stomach and hand. He tucked himself back into his pants and sat back on the table so he could clean Yahaba’s chest as well. “Give me your hand.” 

“I can do it myself, you know?” he said, though he still gave Kyoutani his hand and watched as he cleaned the remaining cum from his fingers. 

“Yeah, but I like taking care of you.”

“Awe.”

“Shut up or I’ll push you off the table.”

Yahaba sat up and put a hand on the back of Kyoutani’s head. “I’ve always wanted a guy who threatens me after we jack each other off.”

Kyoutani put a hand to Yahaba’s thigh and started pushing him to the edge of the desk. “I’ll do it.”

“I have no doubt,” Yahaba agreed, kissing him one last time before getting off the desk himself and looking through all the clothes on the floor. They both took their time getting dressed again, taking far too many breaks in between to kiss or feel each other up a little. 

“Oikawa’s probably trying to gather everyone up,” Yahaba said, checking the time on his phone. 

Kyoutani wrapped his tie around his neck, not bothering to tie it again. “I bet we’re not the only one’s missing right now.”

Yahaba grinned and did the same with his own tie. “Probably not. Think anyone got kicked out?” 

Kyoutani shrugged, taking his hand and leading him from the room, shutting the door behind them. “We might if we get caught over here.” 

“I told you it was Kyoutani!” came a voice from the hallway behind them. They both turned to find Matsukawa and Hanamaki buttoning up their shirts as they walked down the hallways together. Hanamaki’s tie was still tied but very loose, and Matsukawa’s was hanging out of his pant’s pocket.

“We heard you moaning all the way in the band locker room.” 

“Oh, Yahaba!” Hanamaki gasped, poking at Yahaba’s neck. “Those are gonna be hell to cover.”

“What?” he asked, running a hand over the two deep purple hickeys on his neck. Kyoutani looked away, trying to hide a smile. Matsukawa took a picture of them and showed it to Yahaba. He groaned and slapped Kyoutani’s arm. “You’re the worst.”

“Weren’t completely when I was giving them to you.” 

-

Unsurprisingly, an hour later in the ice cream shop, everyone seemed to be in some sort of disarray.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi had fallen victim to the spiked punch again, and Oikawa looked especially out of it as he clung to Iwaizumi’s arm, refusing to let him move further away without looking like he might burst into tears at any moment.

Judging by Kindaichi’s hiccups and Kunimi’s eerie smile, Kyoutani assumed that they’d both had a bit of punch as well, and given what he knew about them, it was probably their first taste of alcohol. He was just glad that they were starting to come down from the drunken messes they’d been in the limo on the way from the school to the ice cream place.

Watari and his girlfriend seemed sober enough, though there were pink lipstick stains all over the collar of his shirt and his tie was on backwards. 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were the ones stuck babysitting the drunks and making sure that Yahaba and Kyoutani didn’t overdo the self-serve ice cream and toppings. 

“Hey, the photographer already emailed me all the pictures,” Yahaba announced, though Kyoutani and Watari were the only ones that paid him any mind since Oikawa was crying on the floor and Iwaizumi was trying to drag him to his feet with very little success while Hanamaki and Matsukawa watched on in case someone got injured. 

“Let me see,” he demanded, taking Yahaba’s phone out of his hands and looking through all of the pictures.

They were far happier than the previous year’s had been for sure. For one, every member of the team was present. Oikawa and Iwaizumi weren’t spread across the picture like they would infect each other if they got any closer, in fact they were far closer than necessary. Watari wasn’t crying over his buzz cut, and his girlfriend was beaming. Just as Kunimi said, Kindaichi had picked him up without his permission, though he seemed more and more okay with it as the pictures progressed. And Matsukawa and Hanamaki seemed just as happy and oblivious to the things around them as they had the previous year.

Kyoutani couldn’t help but look at himself and Yahaba in the pictures. 

His stomach hurt just looking at the hurt on Yahaba’s face and the anger in his own in the first two pictures, but as they continued, he could see the walls that’d been separating them crumble until they were kissing. 

The last picture was his favorite. It was a clear shot of them fully making out since the rest of the team had spread out to get a good view and fully cheer on something that was surely very shocking to the more oblivious members and a welcomed surprise to those who’d witness the pining first hand. 

Kyoutani sent the picture to himself. Yahaba rested his chin on his shoulder and kissed Kyoutani’s cheek. 

“They’re so much better than last year.”

“Are they as catastrophic as you thought they’d be?”

“Everything with this team is catastrophic,” Yahaba chuckled. “But we all find home in each other.”

  
  
  



End file.
